Sang Château
by XtremeRP
Summary: Grimmjow, a prince hidden in the shadows & scorned by society. Ichigo Kurosaki, a rockstar with a stern scowl. Playing in a club one day leads Ichigo to a dark fate, & he is thrown into a tale of romance, blood lust and a big bout of Stockholm Syndrome.
1. Whispered Words

_Summary: Grimmjow, a prince, hidden in the shadows and scorned by society. Ichigo Kurosaki, a budding rock star with a hard edge and a stern scowl. Playing in a club one day leads Ichigo to connect eyes with Grimmjow, and he is thrown into a spinning tale of romance, blood lust and a big bought of Stockholm Syndrome._

_~!Be!~!Warned!~!~_

The dark streets seem tangled together, a maze if one doesn't know their way around. Neon lights of all colors shone in the puddles, creating a shimmering rainbow as people splashed through them. Restaurants and tea shops sat here and there, people taking advantage of the shelter, as well as a moment of relaxation. Yet, those seemed empty compared to the club at the end of the street. Blood red letters reflected on the slick sidewalk, as well as the people awaiting in line, the words Hollow clearly spelled out. Lightning crackled in the sky, alighting the face of those outside, their bodies trembling slightly. The thunder roars loud, blending perfectly with the band rocking it out inside.

The interior is hardly seen, the lights all angled onto the band members. The dark blue walls, combined with pitch black floors, give the sense of walking in a void. Bodies grind against one another as they sway and jump, ears deafened from the booming of the speakers placed strategically around the room. While some dance, others lounge in crimson chairs or booths, fingers wrapped around drinks or another body.

The black oak bar is lined with people, all of different styles and forms. The lights rimming the edges alternate through the various neon colors; greens, blues, pinks, oranges, and yellows. Those lights gleam in the glasses, the liquid inside already of odd shades. The two bartenders serve opposite sides, their attire both the same. On one end is a blonde, his hair falling over the right side of his face. A long sleeved, ebony shirt sits under a metallic red vest, with the shirt tucked into black slacks, held by an equally colored belt. A tall, dark haired man stands at the other end, eyes never staying in one place as he moves about. His short, spiky hair stays away from the sharp angles of his face, two tattoos on them; a blue stripe over the bridge of his nose and across his left cheek, accompanied by a 69 tattoo. Unlike his partner, he the sleeves of the black shirt are ripped off, their tattered ends unseen from beneath the crimson vest.

Both boys serve the drinks fast; shaking, stirring, and shooting cubes into the crystal clear glasses, people at awe of their delivery. Yet, all heads turn as the band picks up another song, eyes locking onto the lead singer, a black and white guitar strapped over his shoulder.

Orange hair falls softly around the angles of his face, brown eyes alight with a fiery passion. Simple, small, hoop piercings sway from his ears as he bounces on his feet. A collared, navy shirt rests on his frame, the buttons half undone, the sheen of sweat evident on his slightly tan skin. Jeans cling to his legs, rips trailing down the side of them, while black tennis shoes rests comfortably on his feet. Fingers wrapping around the neck, pads pressing against the cords, he strums a cord.

Music boomed from the speakers in the corner of the room, lights flashing every array of colour as people melded together, bumping and grinding to the sinful beat. Up high, past the exclusive VIP area, and the security room stood a figure, leaning forward against the railing of a staircase; he gazed down upon the crowd, his eyes flashing red against the strobe that flickered on and off. Dressed impeccably in a white suit, his brown hair was pushed back as he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

He sighed, shaking his head and turned, walking back to his office and clicking the door shut with a lock. "So.." he mumbled to his guest, eying up the black attire he wore. "How would you like to collect him?"

"Reaper! Reaper!" The crowds shouted, the band members names being yelled over the music. The lead singer smirked sinfully and turned back to gaze at his band members. Ripping chords behind his blazing yellow bass guitar rocked a pale, lean figure, with a blonde bowl cut and intriguing yellow eyes; his attire seemed plain. A simple white button down shirt was tucked into white skinny jeans that were ripped at the seams, followed by a pair of white Chucks, dirtied with the smudge from New York streets.

Screaming into a microphone to gather the crowd, shocking red hair was braided over his shoulder, a black bandanna with a skull symbol holding his hair back against his forehead. A graphic black tee with the white, bold words "Soul Reaper" were displayed across the shirt that hugged his body and showed his rippling abs, hidden behind his drums. A black vest covered his shoulders and fell against a rugged brown belt and torn and ripped black skinny jeans, tucked into a pair of combat boots.

The last member was sliding his fingers down the neck of his guitar, sweat licking at his glasses as his black hair fell into his eyes. He was adorning a black vest, covering a white button down shirt and black skinny jeans tucked into blue and yellow converses that matched his guitar, yellow with two blue lines running in a T pattern across the base.

He smirked, turning back to the mic as he belted out the last lyrics to their new song, "_How much boundless pain and sorrow was I able to save you from? Oh...!_

_Show me that you'll touch my raised palms more strongly; Ever and never end._

_I'll release, So far away!_

_With wings of engraving life, longing for the next world in which I'll be reborn._."he paused, turning his head away from the mic and tapping his foot to the beat as the guitar and drums took a short solo. "_Don't cry._."he echoed.

"_Don't cry, if I embraced you to the point that you seem to break, you'd tremble, Oh...! Show me that you'll softly touch my raised palms_.." He ended, the band fading out.

"Thank you.." he smirked, winking at a few squealing girls who had been eying him all night. "See ya' tomorrow!" He ripped one last chord against his guitar before sliding it across his back and sauntering off stage, smirking at a couple girls.

As he placed his guitar in his case, he was thumped on the back. He hissed as he felt some of the rings adorning those fingers dig into his spine. "Ichiiii- Man! That was amazing! The crowds get better each day!" Renji laughed, wiping sweat from his brow with the edge of his t-shirt, revealing tanned abs.

Ichigo smirked, nodding. "Hell yeah. Sick jobs, guys." he nodded to Uryu and Shinji, who were smirking and packing up.

The group struts over to the bar, a space instantly clearing for them in respect and adoration. Shinji takes a seat, the pendant earrings dangling slightly, while the rest remain stationary; hoops, studs, and more litter both of the blonde's ears, not leaving a spot untouched. Uryu takes a seat beside him, taking his glasses off to wipe them clean, his silver nose ring, resembling one a cow might have, gleaming in the light coming off the bar. Renji plops down, laughing, palm thudding the counter as a drink is slung into his reach, courtesy of the dark haired bartender, Hisagi. The liquid slips over his lips and the piercing adorning his lip. He slams the glass down, empty, and continues to laugh, signaling for another drink, the piercing on his eyebrow apparent as he tilts his head.

Ichigo sits down, graceful compared to how the redhead had. He lets the corner of his lips lift as Hisagi stands in front of them, already knowing what they want. The cool glass touches his fingertips, a shiver running up his spine. Izuru, the blonde bartender, grinned at the quartet, "You guys did great tonight."

Renji smirked, "You know it!" He smacked Uryu on the back, causing him to choke on his drink slightly. "Great job on those chords, man!" He hollered over the music as lights flashed against the black of his clothes.

Uryu shrugged in acknowledgement, absently playing with the straw in his drink as he listened Shinji rant about his bass needing to be tuned frequently.

Ichigo laughed softly, running a hand through his hair and unbuttoning his shirt slightly to cool down, revealing a muscled, tanned chest.

His shoulders tensed as he felt eyes watching him. He turned his head slightly, letting his eyes roam around, looking for the gaze attached to him. He saw no one.

He sighed, rubbing his forehead, sighing at the cool metal of his rings against his forehead. "Hey guys," he hollered. "I'm gunna' head home, I'm not in the greatest mood for drinks." They all hollered their complaints before they all knocked back the rest of their drinks.

He stood, swerving his way through the gyrating bodies to get to the back entrance door that he kicked open, grabbing his guitar and stringing the case behind his back as a red bricked wall was revealed, Ichigo quickly walking into the alleyway. Those eyes.. those eyes still followed.

Ichigo sighed, trying his best to keep his head on straight. He kept his eyes focused on getting home, not the fact that he was getting paranoid. The rain fell down around him, making his already damp hair stick to the sides of his face.

Lightning crackled in the sky, lighting his way for just a split second. The goosebumps on his skin never left, but he blamed it on the chill of the air and the adrenaline that had been coursing through his veins, which was now diminished.

Water splashed up around him, the bottoms of his pants soaked. He knew he should have brought an umbrella or at least try to hail a cab, but he didn't live that far, so he believed that the walk wouldn't hurt. Although the stare piercing through him couldn't be shaken away as he turned another corner, the back alleys much quicker than the normal streets.

As Ichigo ran up the stairs to his apartment, his heart raced in his ears. Faster and faster his feet pounded against the dark black steps, his deep crimson door quickly coming into view. Ichigo smash against his, shaking the door handle before quickly looking around and reaching into his pocket, jamming the key into the lock and rushing into his apartment. He slammed the door shut, and leaned back against it, quickly locking it from behind. Those eyes. Those eyes had followed him, then he thought he heard footsteps, and his name being called.

'No! No!' He shook his head, his dark orange hair falling into his eyes as he moved to the kitchen to grab some water. No, he was just paranoid, the music from the club was too loud. Yeah. Yeah. That was it.

Silence, it was the thing causes all the damage. Ichigo hurried to the cabinet, grabbing a glass, and letting the door slam back shut. He turned the water on, the liquid pounding against the silver sink. With the glass full, Ichigo downs it. A flick of the wrist and the faucet is off, glass clanging as it tumbles into the sink. Ichigo tries to regulate his breathing, slowly his palpitating heart. His fingers grip the material dangle over his chest and he stares into the darkness of the next room.

Paranoia...couldn't be worse when one lives alone. As he strode out of the kitchen, he flicked on every light, eyes darting into every crook and crevice of the vicinity. Frightened would be a word a child would use to describe their how they felt after a nightmare, no that didn't fit Ichigo at all. Now, scared shitless was the one Renji would use, and that fit him perfectly.

The lights blazed all around him and it helped soothe his frantic nerves, if only a little. But that was all he needed. Ichigo ran a hand through his hair, laughing at himself for being so stupid, while trying not to think about those eyes that seemed to follow his every move.

_'Iccchiiiggoooo.'_ A voice spoke softly, calling, beckoning him to the shadows of his room. _'Iccchiiggoo.'_

He froze, his blood turning cold. He turned, his breath leaving in short gasps as his body shook with blood-curdling fear. In the shadows.. in the corner of his room.. eyes.. eyes of red..

Ichigo took a step back as those eyes stood out from the dark, tilting ever-so slightly like the tilt of a head.

He took another step back and turned, sprinting for the bathroom and slamming the door shut, locking it with hands that shook violently.

Palms pressed firmly against the cold tile, his body molded against the door as he slides down it, flicking the light on as he goes. His teeth grit together, whole body shaking as he tries to breath steadily. Ichigo couldn't be more cold, his body felt like ice, as if all warmth was left with the creepy voice.

But he didn't want to close his eyes. No. The second he tries, they fly back open, his mind recalling those haunting crimson eyes. Cursing himself under his breath, he lightly hit his head against back against the door. He was brave, not some weakling that ran from things, no he should fight...but the only thing was, he didn't know what he would be fighting if he did.

A hum crossed with a moan reaches his ears, the sound coming from the other side. He looks down, noticing that the sheen of light that once peeked from under the door, is now black with shadows. _'Shit...' _was all he could think.

'Ichigoooo..' The voice whispered, a thud resounding against the door and shaking through Ichigo's bones. 'Ichiggooooo.. Come out and plaayy..' Another thud, and another, getting lower and lower on the door till it resounded against Ichigo's lower back.

His body was frozen to the spot, unable to move or blink, breath hitched in his throat. Ichigo heard only a slight silence, grateful that the voice had stopped, if only for a moment.

Yet, just as he was able to breath, a scream caught in his throat, mouth opening but nothing coming out. His body squirmed, sliding across the floor as he stared at the door. He wanted to breath, to find a way out of his mess. But, those digits curled around the bottom of the door kept him in his place, elegant fingers gripping the wood.

"Holy shit-!" He moved backwards, kicking at the floor and smacking into his tub, his heart pounding against his chest as he felt like he was drowning; not being able to catch his breath.

The fingers curled again, digging into the door, the digits digging into the door. He shook violently, curling up and gripping his knees, breathing slowly.

The nails drag down the door, leaving light marks, the noise itself forcing Ichigo to throw his hands up over his ears. He put his forehead against his knees, eyes locked onto the legs of his pants. If he didn't see it, he'd live. If he didn't hear it, he'd live. All he had to do now, was to not let it in.

His legs shook, bouncing up and down rapidly, his head shooting up, eyes widening. The knob twisted, jiggled, and attempted to turn, struggling to get free from the lock. 'At least the fingers are gone...' he thinks, brain trying to be somewhat positive.

The voice chuckled, a haunting sound. "Just shut up! Shut up, shut up, shut up!" he yelled at the door, trying to push himself further and further away from it.

His heart pounded in his ears once more, and black covered his vision. The last thing he saw was blue, the oddest shade of blue before he fainted, his head cracking against the tile of his bathroom floor.

**~!Thosewhoyouseek..arejustaroundthecorner..withtheirblood_red_eyes!~**

**Drop a review? We'd love it if ya' did! :heart:**

**~B~E~W~A~R~E~**

**Hello~! It's AMLF~! And PyroAhlex~! Whose ready to shit their pants?.. Wasn't that eloquent. Well, actually.. when we wrote this, we gave ourselves nightmares..**

**So~! Sang Chateua! Blood Castle! This story, I.. don't really remember how I came up with it, but when I told Leah, we instantly decided that it would be dark and seductive; so let's hope we portrayed that slightly. ^^'**

**We'll have two more chapters up tonight, and Leah is replying to start the third! Here we go! Wanna' add anything Lea-bear? ([snickers] Go read _It has been.. Wonderful_, you'll see where I came up with it.)**

**Hope people realized that I hate Kairi.. and Orihime.. Anyway! Any words Leah?**

**Read...with the lights on...My only advice to you all. -cough- Anyways~ Enjoy.**


	2. Bloodshot Eyes

He groaned, rolling over and pressing his face against the cool tile of his bathroom floor. His head pounded, the feeling thudding straight through his bones as his eyes ached and he felt so violently sick that he couldn't even move if he were to up-heave.

Moaning in pain, Ichigo struggled to push himself up on his wobbly arms, elbows popping as they straighten out. His head throbbed and his throat felt raw, the memories from the previous night trying to infiltrate his mind once more. His fingers wrapped around the edge of the tub, steadying himself as he held down whatever could possibly be in his stomach.

His eyes ran over the room slowly, the slight movement making his migraine worse. His limbs were freezing, the chill of the tile not helping at all. The light above him was shattered, the remains of the light bulb littering the spot in front of him. The rays that peak in through the small window above him tell him one piece of good news, it's morning...no more darkness for now.

Ichigo sighed, pressing a hand against his forehead as he stood, albeit shakily and stood in front of the sink. He gazed into the mirror, taking note of the bags under his bloodshot eyes, and the two slices against his cheek; probably from the broken light bulb.

He leaned down, turning the sink on and splashing some luke-warm water against his face.

"It's over, Ichigo." He told himself, feeling like a pansy. Now for some breakfast and off to the club for a sound check. He nodded, promising to keep his mind off last nights.. events.

"Holy_ hell! _You look like _shit!_"

"Holy_ shit! _You look like _hell!_"

Ichigo rolled his eyes, pushing some hair away from his forehead. "Thanks for the compliments you fucking nitwits, let's go. I'm on a short fuse today."

Uryu placed his, now cleaned-, glasses back against his nose, smacking Shinji and Renji upside their heads. "Idiots."

Shinji and Renji shot Uryu a look of confusion, although they knew exactly why they'd gotten smacked. Slightly concerned for the orange-haired lead, Uryu glances over at him, "What happened?"

Ichigo continued over to the mic, slinging his guitar over his shoulder, the weight feeling heavier than normal, probably from no sleep. "Nothing. I just didn't get any sleep." he said, glaring down at the floor as the memories drifted through his sleep-clouded mind.

The redhead grinned as he plopped down onto his seat, drumsticks resting in his hands, "Pick up someone on the way home?"

Ichigo didn't even respond, the grip on the neck of his guitar making his knuckles turn white, threatening to snap the instrument in half. "Would you just shut the hell up?"

The stage silenced.

"Woah, Ichigo, just calm down a'ight? Sheesh.." Renji adjusted his drums, his eyes revealing lust as he gazed at the dancing bodies thumping to the music on the dance club below them.

Shinji glared, playing an off key on his instrument, causing the amp next to Renji's ear to let out an eerily ear-splitting noise.

"_OW!_ What the fuck Shinji?" He smirked, shaking his head.

"Nothing, Re~"

Ichigo opened his mouth to holler at the blonde haired idiot as the bass thumped through his shoes and shook his already disheveled brain before a low, sultry voice called out from above them.

"Yo! Strawberry! Get yer' ass up here."

He let out a groan as a guitar chord ripped through the speakers, shaking his head and running a hand through his hair before sliding his guitar off his shoulders and placing it on it's stand. "Be right back.." He mumbled, his voice covered over the deep, flowing music from the speakers as he headed up the stairs backstage.

"Yes, Aizen?"

"There is someone I would like you to meet."

Ichigo raises an eyebrow, looking at the elder man in complete and utter confusion. Yet, Aizen said nothing, just turned toward the door and opened it, ushering Ichigo in. Without hesitation, Ichigo walks inside of the room decorated in whites, greys, and blacks. The door shuts behind them and Aizen strides over to one of the leather chairs near his desk, the back of another man to him.

His heart instantly was in his throat and his heartbeat in his ears, as said man stands up, turning around and flashing his eyes at him. Taking a solid step back, he opens his mouth slightly, familiarity coming off of this man in waves. Ichigo glances at Aizen, "Who's this?"

"Ichigo, this is Ulquiorra." Aizen spoke lowly, a polite yet cautious air to his husky voice as he motioned for Ichigo to take a seat next to the pale guest as Aizen moved to sit behind his mahogany desk. Aizen's office was above the stage, shrouded in black, inside and out. The only thing of colour in Aizen's office was his pristine white suit; the rest was all black or dark brown; a mahogany desk, black chairs, black plush floors and black walls with steel windows showing the dance floor and the flashing lights.

"Pleasure," Ichigo nodded curtly, refusing the seat that Aizen offered with a shake of his head.

Ulquiorra placed his hand back down against his side, dropping it before he even held it out. He tucked his suit jacket back against his sides and sat down on the black leather chair. "Ichigo, may I call you Ichigo?" Ulquiorra was a pale man, his green eyes like poison acid as scars ran straight down from his eyes to his chin; as if he was in eternal sorrow. Ulquiorra was dressed to the nines, a dark black suit, with a green-turquoise shirt that matched his eyes, accompanied by a plain white tie. His slacks were a dark black as well as his shoes; he blended in with the decorum, Ichigo thought ironically.

"Well, Ichigo," he turned, his eyes boring into the others, almost as if it was a doorway to his darkest secrets. "My master _requires _you at our Château."

A slim orange eyebrow rises, suspicion and disbelief clearly spread out on his countenance. "You're serious?" Not so much as a shake of the head or a brief laugh answers him...just silence. Ichigo chuckles darkly, spitefully at Ulquiorra. "You're crazy!"

He pivots on his heel, reaching for the door to leave. Giving a quick glance over the shoulder, he gives a last shake of the head, storming out and down the stairs, the door clicking shut. Ichigo's boots thud heavily on each step with defiance and a slight tint of anger. Thoughts shot through his skull, slamming into each other and splintering off curses that slipped from his lips in murmurs.

"This is ridiculous." he mumbled, the only coherent sentence out of it all. As he got to the end of the stairs, he glanced back up at the office and scoffs before he takes that final step onto the stage.

Ichigo let out a small, gruff sigh as his eyes gazed around the stage at the gyrating bodies, and sequin dresses that reflected the strobe lights up over head. Music pounded against the floor, the bass being felt against peoples feet and up their spine. Drink after drink was passed around, the bartenders filling and mixing odd coloured concoctions to have people hanging over head and smashing their lips against the person closest to them; which, at this point in the night, that person would practically have to be in your lap to be considered "close."

He sighed, closing his eyes, grateful for being behind the pitch black curtain at the edge of the stage. He knew he had a few minutes before the rest of the band would get on stage with him, so he allowed his thoughts to wander to the strange guest viewing him from Aizen's window, unknowingly.

With a shake of his head, Ichigo roused himself from his thoughts, moving to take a step onto the stage, grabbing a hand to pull the curtain back.

A hand slid over his mouth, and with a jolt, Ichigo was pulled back against a broad, muscular chest. A deep, sensuous voice rumbled against his ear, hairs sticking up on the back of Ichigo's neck as fear shot through his heart and his throat ran dry; his emotions conflicting as they bashed against his skull with the pounding of his heart.

Who was this person? What did they want?

"_Ichigo.._" the voice purred, black starting to crawl against the edges of the orange haired adult's vision. "You're mine now." With a sharp nip to his ear, Ichigo fell limp to the darkness of his mind, his vision going completely back as he sagged against his captures arms, his arms and legs stilling before could even put up a fight; his body having gone tense and stock-still with fear.

"Hmh."

"That was such a rash thing to do." A voice spoke calmly, with a harsh undertone as voices began to seep into his consciousness.

**~!Haveyouseenthemyet?Theyarethere..Ipromise!~**

**Drop a review?~ Pretty please? Thank you!**


	3. Blood Strawberries

"You are such an_ idiot_!" A calm voice whispered harshly, the sound muffled through the thick wrought wooden door illuminated by the blood red moonlight.

"Did you think you could just slip him into a trance without any repercussions?"

That voice.. Ichigo let out a small groan, the sound reverberating in his head and muffling against the soft dawn pillows of the darkest red. The silk felt soft against his skin, helping sooth Ichigo's pounding headache minimally. The candles flickered along his bedside table as Ichigo let his eyes slid close, the thunder outside rumbling against the windows and making them shake.

"He would not listen, don't you understand?"

He jolted sitting up and grabbing his head as his vision swam. That voice.. that voice.. He let his eyes dart around from between his fingers; his eyes landing on the black walls, the black floor, the black sky. Black, black, black- It was making him sick. He looked to what he assumed was his bedside table, noticing that the candle had long ago flared out. He moved after a moments pausing, his heart lurching in his throat as the thunder and lightning outside gave him a small lurch; illuminating the room, revealing dark wood furniture and gothic lanterns strung about the ceiling. To the far left of Ichigo's vision sat the door to his -assumed- escape. He stood, blinking as his feet met soft plush carpet that he allowed his toes to dig into.

He swallowed, standing once more as the voices picked up outside; a deep sensuous voice that shook him down to his core and had him closing his eyes as his body broke out in a sweat; his very soul begging him to step closer.. and closer.. and closer..

His hand gripped the door knob and the voices stilled.

"He's awake.."

Ichigo felt his breath hitch in his throat, lungs burning for him to continue breathing and limbs trembling as the knob in his grasp twists ever so slightly. He yanks his fingers away as if he'd just touched a scalding surface. Ichigo takes a cautious step back as the door swings silently open, forcing the orange-haired rocker's lips to part in awe at the masterpiece before him. He wanted to run his fingers through the short, spiky cerulean hair and down the strong jaw and tanned muscles making up this being's chest. He wanted more than anything to have those perfectly shaped lips leave their position of a smirk and relax against his own. To have those strong arms wrap around him and carry him to the bed, palms smudging over his own swe-

What the _hell_ was he thinking?

Giving a curt shake of the head, Ichigo's eyes couldn't possibly grow larger at the sight of the male being so close to him. Sapphire eyes bore into his own as a hand reaches up to cup the side of his face. No distance rests between them, a piece of paper would have a hard time slipping between them, and all Ichigo can do is stare into the hypnotic pools of ice, that freeze him where he stands. His bottom lip quivers un-noticeably, until warm breath ghosts over them. As Ichigo's eyes slowly begin to slide closed, they shoot back open at two sharp pricks meeting his bottom lip. Horrified back into action, Ichigo tears his eyes away from the gleaming silver fangs protruding over the bluenette's lips. He slams his palms against the man's broad chest in an attempt to gain space.

A soft growl rumbles in Ichigo's throat, the feeling of stupidity making him want to slam his head into the nearest hard surface for acting like such a dope. Brown eyes lock instantly on the open door, that he dubs his door to freedom. His toes barely graze the flooring outside the door when fingers wrap around his wrist, yanking him backwards and making his back slam into his captor's chest. Lolling his head back from the impact, his eyes wander up to that angelic face from early; no longer alluring and seductive, but angered and much sharper, full lips turned down in a distasteful scowl instead of the sexy grin, and digits digging into his arms despite the previous gentleness. Ichigo had seen both sides to this godly monster and as black creeps from the corners of his vision, all he can see are those haunting eyes of sapphire.

"Well that was smooth." A voice mocked elegantly from the door way, his frame shadowed by the fire burning lanterns behind him.

The figure growled, his eyes flaring over to the figures before looking down at the embodiment of an angel in his arms. He let his fingers cart through the others bright orange hair, his breath ghosting gently over the others face like a soft summers caress.

With a twitch of the others face he snapped back into his body, a growl rumbling in his chest as he hiked the other up into his arms and carried him gracefully to the large black bed, laying him against the sheets and caressing his skin with the back of his large, smooth hand. The other was his sin, his sweet nectar.. and he barely knew the others name.

The vampyr growled, tearing his eyes away from the others face and turning to the figure in the doorway, assessing the others crossed arms and legs and relaxed shoulders. "What do you want Ulquiorra?"

"I want to know why you had me bring Ichigo here, Grimmjow. After all these centuries, and you choose a post-pubescent teen?" The other kicked off the door jam, adjusting his tight black dress shirt and his pants before scoffing his black dress shoes against the carpet. "How did you even -see- him? You've barely left this castle since this god forsaken war began!" His green eyes flashed red, his fangs elongating as his anger stormed through his system.

"What does this kid mean to you? You have a war to figure out! I almost lost my mate due to your incompetence with this.. this.." He waved a hand, slashing his nails against the dark black wall, the wallpaper curling revealing rotten walls; beady red eyes peaking through. "Thing!"

A tension filled silence settled between the two vampyr, neither wanting to let up from where their minds are at. Emerald and sapphire stay locked in combat, electricity seeming to surge between the two until finally, Grimmjow looks away. A tan hand gives a curt wave, a dismissal if one will. Lips set in a taut line, Ulquiorra swivels around on his heel, not one to give way, but not wanting to stay a minute longer. The more he looked over at the vampyr and the human, he felt truly sick, even though in retrospect he shouldn't.

The heels of his polished shoes click against the corridor's floor as the door to Grimmjow's room shuts behind him. The lightning flashing outside the castle's walls made the heavy drapes in front of the windows seem to glow crimson and the walls alight metallic-ly.

Corner after corner. Hallway after hallway. Room after room.

The door at the end of the hall is creaked open, not daring to let the smallest bit of light slip through. His lithe frame steps in and he silently makes his way to the bed. Lying on the bed, the figure sits up drowsily, bringing up hand to hold out to the dark-haired vampyr. Not so much as a sigh drifts from his lips as the much sorter vampyr crawls up beside him. The smaller and much more fragile body settles into Ulquiorra's lap, the words leaving the weak ones lips silenced by a loud crack of thunder. But his plea his heard, an ashen neck shown to him with care. Dragging a soft tongue over Ulquiorra's neck, he lets his fangs extend and pierce through the skin shielding him from the blood he desires. As the lightning flashes once more, he curls his arms around Ulquiorra's frame, the only thing seen of him being that of his silver hair in the completely black room.

**~!DarknesscreepsthroughtheLight!~**

Grimmjow let out a soft sigh, carting his fingers through Ichigo's hair as the lightning flashed outside; illuminating the others face in a soft red translucent glow.

"My _fraises_.. My _sang fraises_.." He leaned down, ghosting his lips over the others with a shudder that rolled down his spine. "You will be mine soon.." He allowed a rumble to pour through his chest like a rushing waterfall. After a moment, he stood, his fangs acing in his jaw. He reached a hand up, drawing the gossamer drapes back around the bed, enveloping Ichigo in the blackness of shadows.

He turned on his heel, gracefully walking out of the room, his black shirt fluttering against his body.

"How's the shrimp?" Grimmjow grumbled as he stalked into the kitchen; allowing his gaze to drift around the dark and dreary establishment.

Black tiled floors gave way to dark cherry wood counters and hanging candle light fixtures; the walls were scorched and the wallpaper torn and curling, revealing beady red eyes and little claws that clung to the wood.

"I told you not to call him that." Ulquiorra responded blandly, reaching into a cabinet and pulling out a knife. "Now, if you have nothing better to do; leave. I'm busy."

"What?" He leaned his hip against a counter, crossing his arms over his broad chest. "Making food for the shrimp? You know he doesn't have to eat." He rolled her cerulean eyes.

Ulquiorra set the knife down, sighing and shaking his head. "It helps him heal faster. And it shouldn't matter to you. It's not like you love anyone. He is _my mate_." He kept his head down, his eyes gazing at his own fingers. "I swore to protect him, to love him, and that is what I am doing."

Grimmjow froze, clenching his fingers against his arm.

"He is my submissive, I am his dominant; it is my job to make him the happiest he possibly can, to keep him_ safe_." He lifted the knife and went back to cutting small slices of meat from the dead rabbit, fur and bones piled against the counter. "And that is what I am doing. Not like you would know anything about it."

Grimmjow growled low in his throat, his eyes flashing red as he took a step forward, his nails digging into the corner as he allowed his hand to grip it tightly. "You- Like you would know anything about keeping him _"safe"-_"

With a _shud_ the knife embedded itself in Grimmjow's shoulder, the other taking a step back at the shock. "You- How dare y-"

"How d-dare _m-me?_" Ulquiorra's voice shook with a calm reverence, his eyes glaring at Grimmjow through stray strands of his hair. The air in the room was beyond tense, Ulquiorra's fists clenched white as Grimmjow watched the other with careful eyes.

"How d-dare you Grimmjow. You fucking _landed my mate in this poisition!_" He turned, jumping over the counter and smashing Grimmjow against the kitchen wall, digging the knife further into his shoulder. "If I didn't have to go retrieve your fucking _playtoy! _I would of been here to _protect_ my mate! Like you were **supposed **to while I was _away_!" Ulquiorra's eyes were burning with a fury set deep within his body, boiling and spilling over at the idiot he gripped within his hands.

"If you didn't realize it Grimmjow-" He spat, a sneer curling up against his lips and revealing his sharp, pointed fangs. "The world doesn't revolve around your ass anymore! You have people you are sworn to protect! My mate being one of those! But you failed at that, didn't you? You can't just go off doing whatever the **fuck** you please, and expect people to fall into a fucking line!" He shook the other, smirking at the satisfying crunch of head snapping against the rotten wood walls. He leaned forward, stabbing his fangs into Grimmjow's cheek. "You listen to me. You **ever**," the flames flickered in their holders, "get my mate injured _again_, I _will have your **head.**_" He paused, jerking his head back and tearing into the skin of Grimmjow's cheek, creating a wide, gaping hole, revealing pearly white teeth, stained with blood and gums as black as the soul the body had. "Do I make myself clear?" He whispered, his voice deadly quiet, his eyes the only sort of light in the room as an unknown wind ripped through the rotting away kitchen, infected and infested with years -centuries- of misplaced care.

Grimmjow growled, lifting his hands to encircle them around his subject's neck. "I rule over you, you infest-"

He ripped his fangs out, smirking at the satisfying _snap_ of breaking Grimmjow's jaw with his canines. He took a step back, making sure to keep the vampyr in his place with a hand placed against his neck. He chuckled darkly. Grimmjow's jaw hung from its last hinge, swinging side to side as black, thick, poisoned blood dripped from the torn and cracked fragments of his jaw his tongue pushed against the top of his mouth as his canines protruding from the bottom of his lips, his bottom teeth swinging from side to side with his jaw.

"You haven't ruled over _anyone_ for centuries, you vile pureblood. Don't spew me that _bullshit_." He spat against Grimmjow's shoes, jerking his hand back and making sure to leave long gash marks against the others neck, blood dripping against his dark black shirt. With a step backwards, Ulquiorra vanished, leaving Grimmjow to slid against the wall, ignoring the chirping of the bats that ran through his houses walls. Blood dripped around him, pooling against his stomach as his eyes slipped closed.

The floor creaked. Someone was coming.

**~!~**

*******_"S__ang fraises" is blood strawberry(ies) in french._**  


**PyroAhlex: So who wanted a cliffhanger? No. Well too bad. Here. Take it...and a ripped off jaw while you're at it.  
And since you're taking the jaw, leave a lovely review in its place?**

**AMLF: Dear goths Leah. xD**


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